Driving Out the Darkness
by Claamchowder
Summary: No point in wondering why, the answer to that would probably come in time. Ironically, I felt like time was the only thing I /didn't/ have. OC Self-Insert
1. Prologue

Author's Note: After nearly four years of inactivity outside of adding stories to my favorites and alerts list, as well as the occasional review, I have decided to give writing fanfictions another go. I'm using a pretty cliche idea here, but it just seems to interesting and fun that I can't help but write it. Also, the credit for inspiration for this story goes to _Dreaming of Sunshine_ by Silver Queen. So, if you're familiar with that story, it won't come as a shock that this'll be a SI as well.

Title for this story is inspired by the quote below

_Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. ~__Martin Luther King, Jr._

Oh, and obligatory disclaimer of _Naruto_ not being mine.

With that out of the way, on with the story!

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Prologue

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I was in the dark for so long. Trapped within thick, impenetrable black, I was left blind and alone with no escape in sight. I would like to say I was scared, seeing as I was practically suffocating under the oppressive inky depths that refused free me, but I can't. I wasn't scared. I wasn't really _anything_, to be honest. There was an inkling of consciousness—something that kept telling me _this isn__'__t right, why am I here_—but aside from that... nothing. All I know was that I was there for what felt like an eternity.

At the same time, it only felt as long as a night of dreamless rest. A blink of an eye, and I was free. It flew by, and ultimately left me completely and utterly unprepared for what I'd awake to.

Then again, going to sleep as one person and waking up as another isn't really something anyone could ever hope to prepare for, regardless of the amount of time given.

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I had never been much of a runner. No, I was the quiet girl who'd frequently turn down her parents proposals of going out on light jogs in favor of reading, or drawing, or—my favorite—simply sitting on my bed doing nothing. Yet upon my return to the realm of consciousness, the first thing my mind screamed at me was _run_.

Kidnapped. I had been _kidnapped._ That's what must've happened to me; that was the only explanation I could come up with to explain my change in scenery. The night before I had fallen asleep in my room—of that I was absolutely certain. Yet, come the following morning, the room I awoke to was most definitely not my own.

Throwing off plush white covers with much more difficulty than I had ever experienced—_maybe I__'__m still under the effects of whatever they drugged me with? What other reason would there be for me to not recall being transported here?_—I launched myself from the bed. Upon hearing the loud, jarring _slap_ of bare feet colliding with wooden flooring, I couldn't help but wince. Even more so upon hearing how awkward and uneven my steps were, regardless of how carefully I tried to walk.

Quickly surveying my surroundings, my eyes caught sight of a veranda and, beyond that, a dirt path. Further still, I could make out a bamboo fence surrounding the building. Briefly, I wondered _how on Earth could I see everything so clearly_, as normally I couldn't even make out size twelve type font if it was more than a foot away from my face. But, considering the situation at hand, such thoughts were quickly forgotten. A mantra of _runrunrun_ cycled itself through my mind, and who was I to disobey?

I darted towards the door, hand reaching out to grasp the sliding glass so as to throw it open and—

_Squeak!_

Suddenly light flooded the room, allowing me to see what it was that alerted my presence to my captors. There beneath my foot laid a plush dinosaur, button eyes grinning up at me almost mischievously.

I heard a chuckle, deep and masculine, laced with what sounded like amusement. Something was said, but to my fear addled mind it could only be registered as static. I had been caught trying to escape. _I had been caught. _What was to happen to me? Why had they taken me in the first place? What had I done to deserve this? Why me? Why why _why?_

Once again my world turned to black.

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Author's Note: There she is, folks! The beginning of my hopefully interesting self-insert!

Oh, and before I forget, many, _many_ thanks to my wonderful beta Orodruin!


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note:  Okay, so chapter 1! Things are startin' to clear up a little bit more, but there's still so many unanswered questions!

I'm actually pretty proud of myself for getting this done in time so that only a little over a week has passed since I first posted this story. I WANT to keep a schedule of an update a week, but as I have an extremely difficult time of enforcing deadlines on myself, I'll loosely enforce a weekly update, with a bi-weekly update being all the more likely.

Oh, and thank all those who added this story to their favorites or alert! I was pleasantly surprised to see I already had seven followers after that short prologue I posted, and I very much hope to gain even more.

And a really big thank you to **mg4of6** for reviewing! Reviews are even more encouraging than seeing the followers number increase, because I get so stupidly ecstatic to see that someone liked my stuff enough to comment.

Anyway, enough about me, on with the story!

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Chapter One

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_A shadow darker than the night itself silently slipped into the room, making its way to the bed pressed against the wall. It hovered there, empty sockets gazing down at the silent sleeper. A hand reached out, reached down, grasped and _squeezed—

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I opened my eyes and sat up quicker than a cobra strikes. _Breathe_, I had to tell myself, trying desperately to coax oxygen into my lungs. I gasped and coughed, tears stinging and burning my cheeks as I struggled to calm down.

_Breathe_.

A nightmare. A nightmare of helplessness and confused surroundings, of being attacked when most vulnerable, _strangled until my life left me_. There was still the lingering phantom pain of the powerful grasp, and— if I hadn't known better— I could've sworn I felt the indentions of fingers on my throat.

_Breathe_.

The horrifyingly clarity of the nightmare was already beginning to fade, the shadow in my bedroom becoming more a blur. The ache of suffocation was disappearing. My heart was calming, my pulse going from a dull roar to a quiet murmur.

Still trembling from the fear inspired by that horrid nightmare playing out my demise, I slipped out of bed. Then my bare feet came in contact with cold wood, and everything froze.

Wood_._

_Bare feet slapping against wooden flooring, desperate to escape. So close, so close, the door's_ right _there_. _A squeak from the plush and it's all over. Fade to black. Unconscious._

_Kidnapped._

And just like that, my previous efforts to calm down were thrown out the window.

Mind racing, heart trying its best to keep up, I quickly looked around the room— paying close attention to the floor— as I made a repeat of last night's escape attempt. Get to the door, throw it open, and _run_.

It was strange. The room my captors were keeping me in looked a _lot_ like something a child would live in. To the side, stacked neatly in the corner, lay wooden blocks in an array of shapes and colors. And beside them, ridiculously large rubber throwing stars. A little ways away, a plush— dog? Cat?— animal lay on its side.

And there, with its teeth bared in an aggravatingly dopey grin, lay that _horrible_ dinosaur from last night. I would have kicked it if I hadn't wanted to keep my captors from knowing I was awake, if I wasn't so _scared_.

I gave the doll a wide berth, steps still not as quiet or as even as I'd prefer them to be, and quickly made my way to the sliding glass door.

This was all so confusing. One would think that, upon being kidnapped, I'd be shut in some dinky room where there were no windows or easy means of escape, right? But instead, I was in this… fairly comfortable room, with a clear view of an escape route, and I wasn't even chained down to prevent such efforts. The most they'd done to try and deter my escape was placing that dumb doll down there, and even _then_ I doubt that was on purpose.

Either they— whoever _they_ were— were incredibly new to this whole kidnapping thing and had done little to no research, or they were simply confident that I wouldn't be able to escape.

My expression twisted into a scowl. I'd show them. I'd escape, make note of the address, go to the police, and get those jerks sent to jail for kidnapping.

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

With something other than my gut-twisting fear of capture to occupy my mind, thinking became a lot easier. Leave the room, jump the veranda, run down the dirt path through the greenery, past the bamboo fence, and over the large wall that surrounded not only the building that held me captive, but many others. Then freedom.

As eager as I was to simply bolt out the door and _runrunrun_, I wasn't so impatient as to forget to check for guards of some sort. They _had _to at least have guards, right? I mean, you don't just steal someone from their bed in the middle of the night and dump them in a room with no way to actually _keep_ them there.

Now that I thought about it, if they had the skill to kidnap someone from their bed without so much as waking them up, they wouldn't just dump their victim in a room that was easy to escape from. They probably had _some_ sort of way to keep me in.

… _Like ridiculously tall doors where I can't even reach the handle, perhaps?_

I hadn't even noticed it earlier— probably due to how dark it was last night— but this _door_... It easily dwarfed me in size, which was really weird considering I wasn't even short. I wasn't necessarily _tall_, but having anything out of reach was extremely unusual for me.

Was I kidnapped by giants or something?

I would've been able to open the door regardless of whether or not I could reach the handle— as it was a sliding glass door and any amount of pressure guiding it in right direction could open it, assuming that it wasn't prone to sticking— but upon quick inspection I could see that it was most definitely locked.

It was a simple lock— a switch along the aluminum frame that held the glass in place when closed— that could be flicked up or down. It was in the up position. Locked.

_Okay. No need to feel discouraged. I could still do this… maybe._

The blocks in the corner. Not _all_ of them were cubes, but I could use the ones that were to create a base to stand on. Seeing as they were pretty large— a single block was easily bigger than both my fists— there was a decent chance it'd get me high enough.

So I stacked and positioned them, climbed on top and found that I could _just_ _barely _reach it. All I'd have to do is jump a little, grab the switch and _pull_ _down_ and—

"Trying to escape again, hm?"

Goosebumps arose on my skin as a sudden chill filled my body. The chill of fear. My breath hitched, the unease and apprehension that a busy mind had _barely_ managed to keep at bay rushed forward once more, crashing down on me like a harsh, unforgiving wave. I was drowning, drowning, _drowning_, spiraling ever downward into the cold depths of terror, heart pounding in a frantic attempt to provide me with extra oxygenated blood for when— _if_— I had the courage to make a run for it. Fight or flight.

I couldn't fight. I could maybe throw one of the blocks beneath my feet, toss that dinosaur into their face, then make a break for it while they tried to regain their bearings. But, problem: I didn't know the layout of the house. What if I managed to escape this person, only to run into a stronger adversary? And what if they decide to punish me for my attempted prison break?

I was a coward. I couldn't do that. I didn't want to get hurt.

Escaping was a lot easier when there wasn't a visible risk.

So I turned around, visibly trembling, fighting the tears that welled in my eyes; that blurred and warped my strangely perfect vision. I was scared, and it was pretty obvious.

Pitiful. I couldn't even _pretend_ that I was brave. I stood there and quaked and whimpered like a helpless kitten, not even an iota of courage within my pathetic body.

_Yellow-belly_, I bitterly thought.

My captor spoke, but— like last night— it was nothing but static. Muted and jumbled, a _wah wah wah_ of Charlie Brown-esque proportions. But, impossibly, they sounded almost… worried? Concerned.

Pools of bottomless black swam into focus. Unnaturally black, unbelievably dark. Aniridia? Lack of iris, not healthy— eyes that were nothing but ridiculously large pupils, causing significant vision problems. But no. If you looked hard enough, the barest hints of a pupil could be seen, nearly seamlessly blending in with the black iris. But still black. Black black _black—_

A pair of large hands took a hold of my shoulders, pulling me forward and off the blocks, before settling me on their very _bony _hip. But I wouldn't dare squirm, could barely dare to breathe, eyes fixed on black like I'd never seen before.

Cold metal touched my forehead, and I _jerked_, snapping back with a hitched breath— too scared to _scream_— and nearly tumbled out of the arms that wrapped around me. But forearms stiffened as I lurched backwards, my neck aching at the recoil. I was still being held, more firmly this time. I was tempted to struggle, to thrash in their hold, and nearly did when the glint of silver caught my eye.

_Hitai-ate_. Forehead protector. A plate of metal secured on navy cloth, tied on their forehead. And on it? The leaf insignia. Konohagakure.

I nearly laughed. What were the chances of being kidnapped by someone who traipsed about in Naruto gear? Maybe I'd mocked the series one too many times— I was more a secret fan, making fun of the thing I loved to spare myself from the very same mockery— and they just _snapped. _Stranger things had happened in the world, and an obsessed fan getting their revenge didn't exactly top the list.

"Jūbei," Called my captor, tilting my head down so I'd once more look into their eyes.

He looked so _young_. Impossibly young for someone his height. There was no way an adult could look like… like…

Like a _seven year old boy_.

"_Jūbei_," He put a little more force into the… word? Title? Whatever it was, I was pretty sure it was meant to address me, to get my attention.

So, swallowing thickly, I gave him just that.

He seemed pleased, if his eyes— _dark, the color of night, with intelligence twinkling like stars within their depths_— were anything to go by. But mixed with the expression of satisfaction was… worry. I didn't get that.

He confused me.

"Tell me what the matter is," He coaxed, carrying me over to the bed and setting me down— though he kept me in his lap. I didn't _like_ that. I wasn't touchy-feely; I shied away from hugs and general physical contact. Yet this guy held me in his lap like it was completely natural. Seeing as I didn't want to anger him, I stayed where I was. Once I knew more about my situation, I'd probably grow bolder. _Probably_.

But for now, mild and meek I shall be.

"I—" I immediately stumbled— what was _that?_ When I spoke, I most definitely did _not_ hear my voice. What I heard was squeaky, like I had the vocal chords of a toddler.

But now that I thought about it, the man(boy?) that held me… his voice _wasn't_ particularly deep. It wasn't deep at all, actually. He sounded like a child as well— but older.

I sounded more like my two-year-old cousin, and _that_ wasn't a particularly pleasant thought.

The boy— because it was now quite obvious that he was a _boy_, even if he was freaking huge— looked at me oddly, and held me closer. "What's wrong, Jūbei?"

_Jūbei._ That had to be a name, then. And he was using it to address _me._

I shook my head, and this time didn't shy away from the sound of my new voice. "That's not my name," I tried to sound serious— as being called by the wrong name could get very obnoxious and I had to correct this issue as soon as possible— but it came across as petulant instead. Of course, that had _always_ been a problem with me; the moment any humor went out of my voice I was assumed to be annoyed, sometimes even antagonistic. Ugh.

"Of course it is," He looked at me, expression strange, before poking my forehead with his middle and index fingers. It was odd, but the playful gesture was strangely familiar. "I think I know my little brother's name."

Wait_, what?_

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Author's Note: And of course, _much _love for my beta, **Oro****druin**! You're the best.


	3. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter took so long everyone! Writing this chapter was a real struggle, and I didn't feel satisfied with it at all. But after sending it to my beta, Orodruin, it's a LOT better in my opinion UvU

A million thank yous to those who reviewed and added this story to your favorites/following list! You guys have no idea how encouraging it is to see that people like this story!

again, sorry for it taking longer than the projected timeframe I gave last chapter!

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Chapter Two

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I reached for the glass, but my arms couldn't bridge the distance between shoulder and pane— _too short_. My mind felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed with hay, like the cogs and wheels weren't meshing and turning, like the electrical impulses were dulled and the synapses just weren't working. The stimuli weren't triggering a response like they should've, and as such I felt numb and unsure of what, exactly, I was seeing.

My mouth felt drier than any desert in existence, and all I could do was sit on the cold floor.

"Jūbei."

Again with that name. The source came from behind me, but for the life of me I couldn't find the motivation to turn around. Ever since this morning, that child with eyes of onyx refused to leave me alone. He just kept repeating that damn name that wasn't mine, refusing to believe me when I told him what was actually wrong and why I was so upset.

_My name isn't Jūbei, and I'm not your brother— I'm not even a boy! I don't know where I am, I don't know who you are or why you're so tall, and I'm scared out of my mind._

He had just given me another one of his aggravatingly concerned looks, and insisted on following me until I told him what was _really_ up. Briefly, he would wander off to do whatever it was that a seven year old wearing a Naruto headband would do— and the short moments of peace I'd get would last at the very most five minutes.

He never hovered. No, this seven year old wasn't _that_ brand of annoying. He kept his distance, didn't smother me or hold me any more than that initial period on the bed, and just _watched_ me. There was something in his eyes other than concern, but it was complex and hard to decipher, and I admit that it did unnerve me a little.

Just... Sometimes he'd look like he was observing every detail of me, as if trying to find a flaw in my physical makeup. Never had a child made me feel so self conscious.

He called my name— as much as I was loathe to even acknowledge it as such— once more, and suddenly my thoughts snapped into focus. Degummed, swept clean, repaired and functioning at high capacity, my only thoughts were _ohshitohshitohshit!_ Suddenly the boy's claim of us being brothers made a whole lot of sense.

Because when I looked in that mirror, staring back at me was a toddler with hair and eyes as dark as the kid's.

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An hour later we sat alone at a small table, our legs folded under us. As strange as it was, nothing here felt inherently unfamiliar. Once I calmed down, I found myself taking in my surroundings with a sense of normalcy. Almost like I'd lived in this house my entire life.

The thought of being kidnapped was far from my mind by then, instead I only felt puzzled. Somehow, I had not only regressed in age, but changed in appearance and _switched genders_. I was not _terribly_ disturbed by the thought of suddenly being male—though why that was I wasn't entirely sure.

How did this all happen? Where was I? Or rather, who was I? My name was Jūbei; that much I had gathered. But what else was there to this new form? I had fallen asleep as an eighteen year old _female_ with _brown_ hair and _blue_ eyes— there was no doubt about that— and somehow I woke up like… like _this._

The older boy— _my brother_, something inside me insisted— pushed a glass of water towards me, an expectant gaze in his eyes. "Is everything okay now?" he asked quietly, dark eyes boring into my own as I lifted the glass with both my smallhands and drank.

A warm feeling suddenly swelled in my chest, and I nodded without even thinking about it. Affection. Adoration. That was what I felt, though I didn't understand why. I didn't know this boy, yet something inside was also insisting that I did, that this child was my older brother Itachi and-

_Hold up._

I eyed the child sitting across from me, taking note of his _hitai-ate_ and high collared shirt, of those shallow tear troughs under his eyes, and long eye lashes. Coupled with his pale skin and dark hair and eyes, the kid could easily pass for a young Itachi. After all, hadn't he graduated from the academy at that age?

But...

I didn't want to believe it. I _couldn't_ believe it. People don't just go to sleep and wake up in the world of _Naruto,_ especially not in the Uchiha clan, with the notorious _clan murderer_ for an older brother. This world was _fiction,_ and fiction I wasn't even up to date with to boot. No, no, Itachi was probably just a nickname. As lame as it was, kids did sometimes go by the name of their favorite character.

It just so happened that this Itachi looked an awful lot like the Itachi from Naruto. Yeah. So what? Pure coincidence.

Finishing off my water and placing it down on the table with a louder clatter than I intended— motor skills weren't entirely fine tuned, though I was at least adjusted to this body for some yet unknown reason— I pushed myself up off the floor and into a standing position.

"'Tachi-nii," I burbled, much to my horror—I hadn't meant to tack on that _–nii_ bit, and the fact that I did without thinking really surprised me— "I wanna go ou'side." Good lord, my tongue wasn't moving _at all_ how I wanted. And there was something else. Something subtle, that made the words I spoke feel foreign. Like… Like I was saying one thing, but my mind filtered it into another.

Something warm wrapped itself around my torso, and I felt my world lurch as I was picked up off the ground and twisted around so I was suddenly on this kid's— Itachi's— back. Instinctively, my arms linked around his thin neck, and my nose buried itself into his soft hair. He smelled of smoke and sweat, but also of fresh cut grass.

Normally such smells— smells of the outside world I usually abhorred— would be repulsive to me. Yet for this child that held me, it would seem strange for him to _not_ smell like this.

"I suppose your memory's returned again, hm..?" Itachi's voice jarred me out of my musings, voice amused and, underneath it all, relieved. I guess for Jūbei— for me— this was commonplace. Wake up terrified, scared out of my mind, and then remember that _oh wait, this is my home._

Except this _wasn't_ my home.

At least, I don't _think_ this was my home..? It was too familiar to be a completely new place, but… but too foreign to be my _home._ All it inspired within me was a strong sense of déjà vu.

"Nn," I nodded my head in response to his question, black hair tumbling into my eyes from the movement. Burying my face into the back of Itachi's neck, which earned a small twitch from the boy carrying me but nothing more than that, I closed my eyes and tried to focus my thoughts.

My name. My name was… U… U-something Jūbei. The placement of the surname before the given name surprised me, but at the same time… Why? Why did it surprise me?

_Think._

It surprised me because… Because no, the surname didn't go _before_ the given name, it went _after._ And Jūbei wasn't my name. How could I think that it was?

_But it is my name_, another part insisted. There was something juvenile about that part of me, something fresh and young and untainted that most certainly wasn't there prior to me waking up.

Or was it always there, and _I_ was the strange new part? No. No, I was most certainly there from the very start. Itachi said that I'd woken up scared and without my memory before. Before…

_Before._ There was significance in that word. It extended beyond days or years. Before meant… A prior life. Yes. Somehow, this thought felt familiar. Maybe I'd already come to this realization before— but not _Before—_ when I had woken up scared in the past. But then I had forgotten this thought shortly after its conception it seemed, and I myself had been buried deep within, with the other part of me taking over.

That's what was happening at that moment, I guess. The younger side was struggling to take control once more. But _no,_ I wouldn't let it. I _wouldn't_ be buried again, _wouldn't_ wake up again feeling scared and alone.

I did _not_ want to go through that again.

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We _did_ go outside.

It both wasn't what I had been expecting and it was. Out in front of the house, we were greeted by name every time someone walked by— _that was my uncle— that was my aunt— that was my older cousin, Takurei_. My mind calmly supplied with each new face, as though they were people I had seen every day of my life. Men and women with pale skin and black hair and wearing clothing with a red and white symbol sewed onto them.

It didn't alarm me. Everyone wore symbols like that, it was even painted on the walls. A clan crest— and I recognized it from Naruto. But that didn't really _mean_ anything. Clearly, it was a big family, and it was full of Naruto fanatics. It wasn't that impossible.

Memories filtered into my mind as the day progressed, telling me things I should know— things I did know, of course I did.

_There's my twin brother, Sasuke, and my mother. My surname is Uchiha. I'm one of the clan head's sons. We live in the Hidden Village of Konohagakure. My older brother, Itachi, had recently become a genin._

Nothing came as a _surprise,_ I accepted each memory with the ease of something I had known my whole life, as though it had simply slipped my mind. But it was a shock, when my mind faltered suddenly and I actually _realized_ what it was I was thinking of.

I had woken up in a world that was _supposed_ to be fictional. I was _born_ in this world. These memories _were_ mine. Maybe it seemed like I had suddenly inhabited the body of a two year old, but I knew that this was my body, my soul. That innocent half of me must be a mentality I had developed prior to gaining full consciousness, the part of me that served to store memories for when I finally, completely awoke.

And I _was_ awake.

I was awake and I was _terrified._

With the awareness of my situation came the realization that— I was in the Uchiha clan!

I was going to die.

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Author's Note: thanks for reading, it means a lot to me!


	4. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Ah geez, I'm really sorry about how long it's taken for this chapter to get out. I only JUST finished school yesterday, and since it was my senior year of high school, I was more focused on getting my work in on time and doing my assignments and trying desperately to boost my ranking in my class (which i did! I rose from number 66 out of 668 to number 58!) than finishing this chapter. But now that's out of the way, and the next milestone coming up is graduation, which I honestly don't look forward to :\

But I have the entire summer to work on this, so I pray that I'll actually do just that!

One last thing before we go on with the story- I have to say WOW, I absolutely love the attention this story is getting! I'm absolutely thrilled that DOtD has over 50 people following! Thank all of you so much! many hearts to you all

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Chapter Three

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_The figure was in her bedroom, knife in hand. A chuckle escaped lips that could not be seen— _too dark— _and the weapon switched hands a few times. She was sleeping, unaware of the intruder, and as the blade slashed across her throat it was already too late. The cut was too deep, blood was escaping and staining her skin, her clothes, her pillow. She tried to call for help— all that came out was a panicked gurgle. Darkness became even darker, impossibly black, as even the light of her clock dulled into nothingness and—_

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_How did I get here?_

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Red and white fans mocked me day in and out. They stared accusingly at me, they clung to my back and filled my vision with pale skin and dark blood, windmill eyes, frantic screams for help that would not come and _I couldn't do a thing about it._

I was being haunted by what I knew would come and I didn't know how to _stop_ such a thing. I wanted to prevent the massacre— desperately so— but I didn't even know if such a thing was _possible_. The clock had started ticking three months after my birth, on the day of the Kyuubi attack and coincidental absence of my parents, and I had maybe six years until everyone around me lay on the ground _dead— _and I may even be among them.

I wasn't so arrogant as to believe I was significant enough to survive the massacre. I couldn't _let_ myself believe that. It would only make the eventual demise of my Clan and _myself_ that much more horrifying and heartbreaking. No, if I wanted to survive, I had to endear myself to my oldest brother. He loved me, this I could tell, but with my heightened awareness of the world that came when I fully awakened, I could also see that my strangeness was a cause of some distance between us.

Not that he actively _showed_ that we weren't as close as he was with Sasuke. But, prodigy he may be, in the end he was only seven, and I could pick out the flaws in his well-intended act.

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"I go, too?" were the first three words I spoke to Itachi that morning, having heard the excited squeals of Sasuke. He only squealed like that when Itachi had time to spend with the family, and generally he spent that time by taking Sasuke or me out on walks.

But usually Sasuke.

I didn't blame Itachi for his favoritism. After all, _Sasuke_ never woke up in the morning terrified and without a clue of where or who he was. Sasuke knew that he was Sasuke, while I still battled between being Jūbei— a two year old boy who should very well _act _like the two year old he was— and being the me from Before— which honestly I didn't really _want_ to be. The me from Before was boring and too often sad. I wanted to evolve into a new person who had courage and strength and didn't tremble at the mere thought of _helping_ someone in need— which happened far more often Before than I'd like to admit.

He paused, our brother clinging to his back like a little monkey (I found a bit of amusement in this, simply because he was named after a _Sarutobi_, and he was clinging like a _monkey_), and turned to face me. I was standing in the doorway of my room, and to get to the front entrance of our house he had to pass by there. As quiet as he was, Sasuke most certainly _wasn't_, so it was always easy to detect him.

I think he was a little impressed by my ability to always catch him on his way out.

Twin pairs of obsidian blinked at me, and there was a beat of silence. And then Sasuke grinned at me and gently tugged at the collar of Itachi's shirt. "Jū! Niisama, Jū come, too?" he pressed his cheek into the seven year old's hair, and let out a happy hum.

Instantly I could see Itachi's eyes soften, and I couldn't fight the grin that appeared on my face. I had _never_ been a big fan of Sasuke Before, but here I felt none of the animosity I once did— just love and adoration bred from spending my entire life with the boy. He was _cute_, in the way that completely innocent children could be. I didn't want him to ever lose that wonderful smile, though I knew such a wish was impossible considering the impending future.

I didn't like thinking about it.

Itachi— _my brother, the to-be Clan murderer— _smiled at me, and freed up an arm from underneath Sasuke's rump for me to grasp— didn't want me to wander off after all. "We're going to the river, Jūbei," he informed me, leading me out of the house. "I'm going to show you and Sasuke how ninja catch fish."

At the word 'ninja,' Sasuke immediately let out a shout of joy. He absolutely loved everything and anything to do with ninja. All it took was the simple utterance of the word and my slightly older brother was all ears. In a very _Sasuke-like_ turn of events, ninja had also been his first word. _My_ first word had apparently been 'help,' which wasn't exactly the most _encouraging_ start to the career of a shinobi.

I took a hold of Itachi's hand, lacing our fingers together. This outing was more for Sasuke than for me, but that was okay. I just needed to spend time with him. With _them_.

I didn't want to die. I really didn't. Not again (I say _again_ under the assumption that I've already died once, but to be honest I didn't really know. Did I die? If I did, _how?_ They were questions I desperately wished to answer, but I had no way to truly discover if I had or had not). This was my second chance at life and I _really_ didn't want to squander the opportunity that came with it.

I had to live.

Admittedly, it was scary knowing what Itachi would do to the Clan— what he _might_ do to me. I knew _why_ he had done what he did, beyond the whole _I wanted to test the limits of my abilities_ crap. I didn't know the exact details, since I never actually read up to that point, but… But I knew. I knew of the coup and how the Council had placed the terrible burden of slaughtering the entire Clan on the shoulders of a boy of thirteen— _thirteen! _Ninja or not, he was just a _child_— and how Itachi had carried out the order because of his love for Konoha.

It was scary, it was terrifying, and it made me anxious and jumpy of every little thing— _Father would look so disappointed in me. So, _so,_ disappointed in a boy that was scared of the dark despite the fact that he was one day expected to operate from the shadows_.

It was as if the massacre was right around the corner rather than six years from now.

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By the time we returned home, both Sasuke and Itachi were sopping wet. Sasuke because he had thrown himself into the river in an attempt to copy Itachi's water walking— it goes without saying that he _failed_— and Itachi because Sasuke had dripped and splashed all over him when he had plucked the toddler from the water. I, of course, had managed to stay completely dry simply by keeping my distance from the water. I was much more content to sit on the riverbank and observe my brother practically gliding atop the water's surface with ill-conceived awe.

After he had handed off a giggling and squirming Sasuke— I couldn't get over how _different _he was to the Sasuke I knew, even if he _was _only two— to Mother, who looked a little annoyed that two of her three sons had dripped all over her clean house and that she'd have to mop up the gathering puddles from the lacquered floors.

She leveled Itachi with her classic mother-glare. "Explain," she ordered, one hand holding Sasuke in place while the other was placed on her hip.

Mother was never really intimidating, to be completely honest. She probably _could_ be scary, considering the fact that she was at one point an accomplished kunoichi—a Jounin, to be accurate! The only reason she wasn't out on the field kicking ass and taking names was because she had a family to take care of.

It was a little sad that she didn't get as much recognition as she deserved, though. No one walked past Mother and exclaimed, _"Oh! There's Mikoto-sama, the great shinobi who once took down an entire squadron of enemies during the Third War with only a few feet of wire and a handful of shuriken!"_ Which was a pity, considering she was insanely talented with thrown weapons, and was the main reason Itachi was so skilled. Oh sure, he was a prodigy, and he learned insanely fast, and would eventually grow more accomplished in the art than Mother, but without her tutelage as a base he wouldn't have gotten so good.

But being overshadowed by the men of the Clan was a far too typical fate for your average Uchiha woman. Father was given the credit of being the best with shuriken, though honestly he probably was by _now_, since Mother's skill most likely decayed with disuse.

But, I digress.

"Sasuke tried to water walk," Itachi said, pushing sopping wet bangs—courtesy of Sasuke— out of his eyes.

She rolled her eyes, though there was the slightest of smiles on her lips as she held her little boy out in front of her, before pressing her nose to his in a sign of affection. "_Honestly_, Sasuke-kun!" Mother chided gently, swaddling him into a towel that she pulled out of seemingly nowhere, "You need to learn how to sit still and be a good boy like your brother!" At this, she gestured with me, adding in a wink as if saying _good boy, Jūbei._

I smiled.

As she carried my twin brother off to take a bath, I heard her quietly add, "Besides, you'll be able to walk on water in due time, my little shinobi. Patience is key."

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_Knowing what was to come, could I be patient?_

_._

"What're you reading, 'Tachi-nii?"

Said brother of mine looked up from the small crème and green book in his hands, peering at me with those large black eyes of his. Curled up on his bed, with his blanket wrapped around him and his hair pushed back out of his face with a headband, he looked more like the actual child he was rather than a soldier or trained killer. The plush covers swallowed him whole, so only his arms and head were really seen.

Gosh, he looked _too cute_.

A smile graced his lips—_smiles were becoming more and more infrequent ever since he graduated_—and he scoot over in his bed, opening his cocoon of blankets up in invitation. "It's a book I found the other day," Itachi replied as I climbed up and tucked myself into his side, pressing my cheek against his chest. He shifted, and the blankets surrounded us as a protective barrier from the rest of the world. "It's about an utterly gutsy shinobi who strives tirelessly to break a curse."

Instantly, I was all ears. "Read it to me?" I asked quietly, twisting so I could look up at him.

He looked… I don't know. I wouldn't say delighted, because that was too extreme of an emotion to place on Itachi when he's such a quiet and reserved child.

Pleased. Itachi was pleased. And I was, as well.

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_I want to live_.

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Author's Note:  As usual, a million thanks to my beta, **Orodruin**, for helping me out!


	5. Chapter Four

Author's Note: Again, I'm so sorry for the long wait! I had to deal with college stuff and driving stuff (i finally got my license after NOT having one for the past four years!) and also hair stuff (i dyed my hair blue, then pink!). It wasn't like I FORGOT about this- I was constantly thinking about it because WOW I get so happy when my email alerts me that I've got ANOTHER person following this story- I just get so distracted sometimes... But yeah, the ones responsible for spurring me on to write this chapter is YOU GUYS. I guess it sounds a bit cheesy when I say that but honestly it's TRUE. I mean, compare this story to the other two stories I have on here (excluding the one-shot). Those have very few followers and almost no reviews. It was very easy to forget those stories existed. BUT NOT THIS ONE 3 3 3

I'm pretty excited about this chapter. Things are beginning to pick up a little, and we're gradually getting closer to a scene that I personally look forward to writing- No, not the massacre, what are you guys talking about? Psh. No but in a few chapters we'll be at that point in time when Sasuke begins to fill his Paw Encyclopaedia! And, well... I LOVE cats. To a scary degree, guys. Like FOR SERIOUS. So OF COURSE I look forward to the point in time *V*

Anyway, I've talked enough, let's move on with the chapter!

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Chapter Four

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_It is to be remarked that a good many people are born curiously unfitted for the fate waiting them on this earth._

-Joseph Conrad

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A year went by surprisingly fast under the care of the Uchiha clan. I had expected an agonizingly slow passage of time while stuck in this form— it was both incredibly foreign, yet as familiar as the form I had Before— yet the days blurred into each other at an alarming rate. I blamed my young body, which forced me to nap far more often than I was used to (though that's not to say that I didn't like the sleep— oh no, I _loved_ my naps). However mature my mind may be, my body was only that of a toddler, and I naturally had to give in to its demands.

I'd have to say the only problems I had with sleeping so much were the _nightmares _and, more importantly, missing out on some much needed bonding time with Itachi. It turned out that knowing I had five years to get on his good side gave way to complacency— a problem I was all too familiar with from my prior life and a problem I most definitely needed to break. If I didn't spend enough time with him one day, I'd always think '_I have five years to do this, no rush_,'which was ridiculous because I _had to rush_.

Because hours melted into days melted into _weeks melted into years andohgodI'mgoingtodiesoon-_

As stressed as that frantic train of thoughts often made me, it was exactly what I needed to get me to get my ass into gear. The anxiety of knowing what was to come was sometimes too much— _whispers of concern from Mother and Father, wondering what was wrong with their already messed up little boy now_— but overall it often made me scramble from my bed in a panic and pitter patter my way to Itachi's room. He wasn't always there, but when he _was_…

There was no one better at soothing my worries than my brother. Actually, both of my brothers were amazing when it came to calming me down— but Itachi was clearly the best at it.

Often I'd find the pride of our family busy studying chakra theory, or sharpening his kunai and shuriken (because while it was never the weapon that made the warrior, having the weapons in top condition never hurt anybody other than the enemy), or doing some other shinobi practice in preparation for future training sessions and missions. He was always on the ball, always planning ahead, always assessing every situation with an eye way too critical for someone his age.

But all it took was a pathetic, shameful sniffle from yours truly and he'd put it all aside and gather me up into his lap.

For someone so slight and bony (as children often were), it amazed me how warm he always was— both physically and emotionally. Though his expressions were often blank or cold, I often felt like… like I _got _him. Like I understood his thoughts and how his mind worked. I know it wouldn't always be like that— he'd soon become far too smart for me to ever truly understand— but, in our current place in time, _I got him_. He was strong, smart, and compassionate; he had a combination of traits that you'd be hard-pressed to find in just _any_ shinobi that crossed your path. Yet, for all that, he was pressured and pigeonholed into something he truly did not want to be.

A murderer.

Itachi didn't _want_ to be a murderer— which was exactly what shinobi were, no matter their motive or disposition. He just wanted to _help_. He was so good, so _pure_ despite being a trained killer, and he just wanted to help. Help the village, help the clan, help his _family_.

He was _so_ young, and it just broke my heart.

Because in five years time— he'd be thirteen,_ still a child_— he'd be slaughtering his family in the name of peace.

_That_ was why I cried. I was scared, not only for myself, but for _him._ _For my brother._ For the emotional scars he'd inflict upon himself, for the burdens he would have to bear, for the secrets he would keep that could never be shared, for the truth that _no one would know or believe._ He would make himself a public enemy just to keep the public safe.

He would deny himself love.

_And then he would die by Sasuke's hand._

That last part— knowing that was just… Just—

It was too much.

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_When she opened her eyes that night in a room so dark that she almost felt like she was drowning in the blackness, she instantly knew that she wasn't alone. She couldn't really say _how_ she knew, because aside from the strange tingling sensation she had, there was no other proof._

_She sometimes had these feelings— of being watched by the unseen— but often she wrote it off as paranoia. After all, she was a coward with an overactive imagination who scared _herself_ more often than not, and conjuring up her own night terrors was common practice. _

_But no, there was _definitely_ someone in the room this time._

_Mouth unusually dry, the girl opened her mouth to speak, "Is anyone the-" and was quickly cut off by a wave of nausea-inducing fear._

_Staring at her through the darkness was a pair of luminescent, blood-red eyes._

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I chewed on my umeboshi solemnly, gaze directed downwards into my small bowl of rice. I normally relished dinner time, as no matter how many times I had the same dishes, the magical quality of eating food so different from what I was used to Before never faded, but…

I couldn't even taste what I was eating. Couldn't taste the normally acidic and salty plums that were quickly becoming a favorite, couldn't taste the miso I finished earlier, couldn't taste the sashimi I'd briefly nibbled on, and wouldn't taste the grilled chicken I've yet to touch.

Never before had I been so affected by a dream— no, _nightmare_. It had been so _easy_ to write off the earlier dreams as attempts made by my subconscious to supply me with how I had met my possible demise, but this one—_ red eyes glimmered ominously from within the inky depths, just _staring_ without so much as blinking_— disturbed me. There was no death, no struggle, and no pain. Just the suffocating fear that came with being pinned down by a crimson gaze, not knowing what was to happen next and—

"Welcome back, Itachi," came my father's voice, followed by Mother echoing the greeting, effectively snapping me out of my thoughts. I couldn't fight the grin that was beginning to bloom across my face as I lifted my head to welcome my brother back. He had been gone for what felt like _forever_, being called out on a week-long mission of patrolling the western border of the Land of Fire, and I had missed him terribly.

My words died in my throat the moment I saw how… how _red_ he was. Blood coated the entire front of his shirt, speckled along his arms and face, and even seemed to be in his _eyes_—

Ice settled in my gut, and the meager appetite I had before was completely gone by then, replaced instead by the sensation of a painfully clenched stomach.

For an instant, I could've swore that the room went dark, leaving me alone to stare at an unwavering scarlet gaze that refused to look away, _panic beginning to set in once more as my heart began to race and sweat broke out on my brow. Mouth dry, breaths coming out in short bursts, I try to look for an escape only to find_—

"Itachiii!" Sasuke crowed, touching his own eyes. "You got the Shangan! So cool!"

_No! No, it's _not_ cool!_ I wanted to scream, howl, _cry_. No, no, _no!_ The Sharingan would only spur our father to push Itachi harder, pressure him more, alienate Sasuke in favor of grooming his eldest to be the strongest, wisest leader for the Uchiha only to have it blow up in his face. Everyone will end up sitting at the bottom of a sea of blood courtesy of the Clan Head's oldest child, all because Itachi was too strong, too smart, too kind_, too young._

Desperate to find that I was not alone in this thought, I directed my pleading gaze to Mother, only to find her mirroring everyone else's look of pride. No one seemed to _care _that Itachi had to have received the Sharingan because he had to have been _scared out of his mind._ Or stressed beyond imagination, or in a situation where he _might have died._ It didn't matter that I had knowledge of the approximate future where Itachi lived into his early twenties, _he could've died._ He was only eight, for crying out loud!

I know that Sasuke couldn't possibly know the circumstances surrounding the activation of the Sharingan, but our parents sure did. They didn't even ask if Itachi was alright, or if he wanted to talk about it or—

They were shinobi through and through. They didn't so much as blink an eye at the thought of their child receiving his Sharingan through less than pleasant circumstances. After all, _they_ didn't suffer from gaining their doujutsu, surely their son didn't either!

I was just so… so _frustrated._

"Jūbei…?" Finally, Itachi spoke, voice hoarse, and I felt the pressure of a hand on my head. "Jūbei, I'm not hurt, don't be upset…" He was speaking quietly, fingers threading themselves through my hair, stroking gently.

I almost wanted to cry. Kami, he was comforting me. _Me!_ I should be the one comforting _him_, holding him close and assuring him that everything would be alright because I'd _change _things. I'd keep him close and he'd be safe and Sasuke would be safe and our _family_ would be safe. There'd be no massacre, no coup d'état, no war, no fratricide, just blissful happiness. And in regards to the war that would happen in the future, we'd find a way. We'd have an army of Uchiha on our side, after all..! And, and…

And…

I was fooling myself if I really believed all that could happen.

After the round of congratulations was over and done with, Sasuke and I were ushered off to bed by Mother. Sasuke, of course, protested loudly that he wanted to stay up so he and his big brother could play ninja— which honestly wouldn't be a good idea, considering that being a _real_ ninja just caused Itachi a great deal of pain.

I'd never been so grateful to hear our father shoot him down. "Not now, Sasuke. Itachi just took a big step in furthering his career as a shinobi, and now he needs to know just how difficult the road ahead of him will get—you'll probably be asleep by the time we get done, so just go to bed." Though he made it obvious that there'd be no room for argument on the subject, I always appreciated how gentle Father couldbe. He wouldn't always be so kind with how he said things, but for now, while we were young, I think he was trying to make our childhood at least somewhat enjoyable.

After all, we weren't forced into heavy combat training _quite_ yet. Sasuke and I were enjoying our short childhood while we were allowed to, before we were handed off to the Academy where they'd drill us on how to kill, how to deceive, how to survive in this crazy and terrifying world where death was around every corner. Well, actually, _Sasuke_ was enjoying his childhood; I was more or less trapped in a nightmarish cycle of frustration and helplessness and desperation.

I sometimes envied the boy for being so blissfully unaware of what was to come.

But most times I was grateful for what I knew, because at least I had a chance to stop it all. Maybe not now, due to my obvious physical and social limitations— no one would listen to a three-year-old, especially one that didn't even have the slightest of prodigal leanings and could very well just be a silly toddler— but _later, _when I was more capable. For example, I could… take Sasuke's place, when Orochimaru came along. Surely he'd be satisfied with an Uchiha identical to his target in nearly every physical aspect— or even one that was in better physical condition. I could start training much earlier than Sasuke— or we could _both_ start training earlier than we would've. Surely Mother would jump on the chance to teach us self defense, should there ever be a time when no one was around to protect us. If we started training early, my drive would allow me to progress through training must faster than Sasuke.

But there was also the chance that I could possibly make Sasuke feel inadequate, which was _not_ what I wanted. I just wanted Sasuke to be safe and happy and _loved_, and I was in the perfect position to do all this. Granted, it'd be more ideal if I had perhaps been a middle child between Itachi and Sasuke, giving me some more time to deal with the upcoming problems, but there was no denying that I'd have some distinct advantages that came with being an identical twin.

Or, well, I _hoped_ there were distinct advantages. I know that there was at least one way to easily distinguish Sasuke and I, and that was by our fingerprints— despite sharing the exact same DNA, our bodies were still able to produce one difference that made us _unique_— but in this world, I had no idea if there'd be more to make us distinct from one another. For instance, did we have the same chakra? If not, did we at least have the same chakra _natures_? I know that fire and lightning were common among the Uchiha, but what if I discovered I had an affinity for, say, _water?_

_(I desperately hoped that wouldn't be the case, as I at least wanted to be able to impress Father when the day came to learn a fire jutsu.)_

It'd be awhile before those questions could be answered.

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Though my body protested, I managed to stay awake for the moment when Itachi was allowed to retreat to his room. Father and Mother had had their fill of their little question-and-answer time with their oldest son, and now it was my turn. While it probably would've been best to maybe let Itachi catch some sleep— he had, after all, just returned from a week-long mission— I was worried that I wouldn't get another chance to talk to him.

He knew of my… awareness of the world around us, so I hoped that what I was going to talk to him about wouldn't come as too much of a surprise. But perhaps that would be wishful thinking on my part. For a boy as young as myself, I shouldn't be as quiet or as logical as I was, especially considering that I was born in a time of peace. For Itachi, he had been forced to mature early due to the Third Shinobi War, but I really had no excuse. Our parents just wrote my behavior off as the ideal Uchiha behavior for the most part— my lack of courage certainly wasn't Uchiha-worthy— and left it at that. They never even questioned it. Perhaps they should have been concerned that I was a spy of the Village that had taken the place of their son, but… I had sort of acted like this right from the beginning, from what I've heard.

After giving Itachi's door a quiet tap that would alert him to my presence, I quickly slipped into his room, making sure to close the door gently so as not to make too much noise.

He tiredly raised a brow in question at my sudden company, before letting out a resigned sigh and patting his bed for me to sit. "I told you I wasn't hurt, Jūbei…" Itachi started slowly, as I quietly complied. He drug his weary eyes from the still-bloodied kunai set on his desk to where I sat.

I swallowed thickly, averting my gaze briefly as I gave myself an internal pep-talk. _You can do it; Itachi needs your love and support. Show him you understand! He needs _you.

Finally, after being quiet for so long, I spoke:

"But… You're lying, though…" My voice trembled ever so slightly, betraying my nerves— though it wasn't like my shaking knees didn't give it all away either. "You _are _hurt, Brother. You're… You're hurt really badly." In an effort to quell my quaking appendages, I drew my legs up, hugging them closely.

Itachi was silent for what felt like far too long, before he took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. "… Oh? What makes you think that? You don't see any cuts on me, do you?"

"It's not physical hurt, Itachi," I had to pause to run my tongue along the roof of my dry mouth. I was just… so nervous that he'd shut me out, deny my claims of being able to understand him. "Your heart is hurting. So… my heart is hurting, too. I hurt for you."

Before he could say anything in reply, the words suddenly came out in a rush, my arms tightening more and more around my legs with each passing second as I tried to get in as much as possible. "I know how you get the Sharingan. Nobody told me but I _know._ I know how… how scared you must've been. Or stressed. Or how endangered you were. And I know how you don't like to kill and yet you _did_. I know it couldn't have been avoided— you were attacked. But you were covered in _so much_ _blood_, Brother..! You had to have been taken by surprise and… and if your Sharingan activated, then you must have the images of their deaths _engraved_ into your mind, and you probably feel _horrible_, and I can't leave you feeling like that! I love you, and while Mother and Father don't understand your feelings, I _do_, and I want to comfort you and—"

Suddenly, I was pulled into a crushing hug, my own trembling coming to a halt as soon as I felt the halting shudders that wracked Itachi's body. He made no sound as he held me, but judging by how damp my shoulder was beginning to feel, Itachi was definitely crying. And he had _every right to cry_. He was only eight— far too young to be killing. But what could he do? It wasn't as if he could _stop_. He was far too important to turn in his headband, and far too talented to be allowed to do such. It'd bring shame upon our Village and our Clan to have such a promising individual just up and quit being a shinobi.

To be a shinobi was to endure, which Itachi was trying his best to do. But he was only eight, and could only handle so much.

Maybe some would accuse me of encouraging weakness in my brother by allowing him to cry on my shoulder, but I didn't see it that way at all.

I was just encouraging Itachi to be human.

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Author's Note: Again, thanks very much to my beta, **Orodruin**! Without you, I wouldn't feel confident enough to post these chapters C:


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